


Floodgates

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3321728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been tempting fate, and fate was tempting them right back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floodgates

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that one time I started an A to Z challenge? Yeah, me too. I have not forgotten, and this is one I was very excited to post. Porn ahead, folks. Hope you enjoy. Comments are love.

The quiet rustling of paperwork would have been, under normal circumstances, white noise that Brenda would have paid little attention to. However, these were not normal circumstances: each flip of a page was done not by her own fingers but by Sharon Raydor’s.

Sharon, who was in her house, at her dining room table. Sharon, who was wearing a tight cotton t-shirt that hugged the curves of her chest. Sharon, who smelled like jasmine and whose lips were pursed as she concentrated on her work. Sharon, whose proximity was going to drive Brenda to the point of madness.

Their working lunch had turned into a working dinner, which had turned into a working dinner at Brenda’s home with Chinese takeout. It was driving Brenda crazy. She shifted in her chair, hyperaware of how confining her bra felt.

One of the two cell phones atop the table began to vibrate and Brenda jumped. “It’s yours,” Sharon said once she had flicked her green eyes at her own phone. Perhaps she had noticed who was calling, because she then resolutely focused her attention on her work.

“Oh. Right.” Brenda licked her lips and looked at the screen. Fritz. Casting a cautious glance at the other woman, Brenda answered the call. “Hi, Fritzi!” She nervously tucked a tendril of blonde hair behind her ear.

“How goes the working dinner with the wicked witch?” he joked.

Brenda blushed. “Oh, it’s goin’ fine. Are you on your way home?”

“No—that’s why I’m calling. I’m going to be a few more hours. We just...”

Brenda tuned him out, her eyes settling on the shadow beneath the vee of Sharon’s shirt. Her heart began to beat a little faster. She had known it would be a supremely bad idea to invite Sharon into her home--having her husband around would have been torturous, but _not_ having him there to chaperone would be even worse. 

They had been tempting fate, and fate was tempting them right back. 

He had finished talking, and Brenda straightened her back. “All right then. Good luck with your work. I’ll see you tonight.” 

At that, Sharon darted her eyes toward Brenda, her eyebrow arched. Brenda nearly missed hearing his effusive “love you!” and mumbled a quiet “me too” before hanging up and dropping the phone onto the table with a loud slap. She exhaled sharply. “That was Fritz. He’ll be workin’ for a few more hours.” 

Sharon studied her carefully, the tip of her tongue flicking across her lip. “I see.” 

“So it’s just you an’ me now.” 

“Brenda…” 

The blonde exhaled sharply, even more aware now of Sharon’s nearness. “What?” 

“I should probably go.” 

“No! No. Why would you do that? We’re adults.” 

“I only agreed to this because your husband was going to be home.” Sharon shifted in her seat. “That was going to be bad enough.”

“What - you think we need a chaperone?” 

Sharon’s eyes darted to meet Brenda’s, her eyebrow rising once more. They stared at each other long enough to confirm that yes, they did need a chaperone, if the heat rising in Brenda’s cheeks was any indication. She bit her lip. “We’re only here ‘cause we’ve got all of this work to do. So let’s just...do it. The work, I mean.” 

Sharon laughed. “Yes, I knew what you meant, Brenda Leigh.” 

They continued to work in silence, though Brenda had seriously overestimated her own ability to concentrate when Sharon was in her home, smelling like jasmine and soy sauce, and was just out of reach. She had spent countless nights imagining scenarios in which she explored the delicate, sensuous curves of Sharon’s body in her bed, in her shower, in her kitchen. Lying in bed beside her husband had become a lesson in training her features not to betray the ferocity of her desires for someone else. She was a horrible woman, a horrible wife, and yet that did nothing to quell how desperately she craved Sharon Raydor. 

A flash of heat coursed over her and she unbuttoned her cardigan, shrugging it over her shoulders and tossing it toward the other end of the dining room table. Sharon, she noticed, had watched the entire process, her eyes fixed on the unobstructed view of Brenda’s cleavage and pale, bare arms. She expected to feel cooler without her sweater, but Sharon’s gaze only served to burn her up. She bit back a groan and licked her lip. “I think I need some wine. How ‘bout you?” 

Caught, Sharon cleared her throat. “I’m not sure that drinking is such a great idea…” 

The very knowledge that Sharon feared what would happen if she lowered her inhibitions made Brenda ache. Sharon, the epitome of the consummate professional, was every bit as distracted and aroused as Brenda, try as she may to pin it all on the deputy chief. 

They were all alone. Fritz would not be home for hours, and that was plenty of time to…

Work. They needed to work. They did not need to have sex. 

Oh, but how she wanted to…

“You don’t have to have any if you don’t want. I concentrate better when I’m workin’ from home when I’ve got a glass of Merlot to sip from.” 

Sharon shrugged. “All right. I’ll have one too then.” 

Brenda nodded, stowing away into the kitchen where she fanned herself with her hand. She was going to drive herself crazy at this point and it would be her own fault for suggesting they work in her home. They should have stayed in the office with takeout...but by this time of night, everyone would have gone home, and they likely would have locked the door and fucked on the desk. Her body tensed at the thought as a rush of wetness surged between her legs. No. No, they should have gone to a restaurant, in public, in full view of a room full of strangers. She closed her eyes, knowing that they easily would have ended up fucking in the bathroom or in the car or in a hotel, as they’d done dozens of times before. 

They were no longer in control of this affair; the affair was controlling them, and they were mutually at its mercy. Brenda did not want to control it; they could have ended it if they wanted, but neither was willing to put a stop to things, not now that they had moved past the initial animosity to acknowledge the crackling intensity of the attraction that had existed from the very beginning. No one had ever made Brenda feel like this and she was addicted to that feeling, like the sweet rush of chocolate or the dizzying intoxication of wine. 

She had thought, foolishly, that once they’d given in to their mutual attraction they would have gotten it out of their systems...but all they had done after that first kiss was open the floodgates. 

Brenda took a deep breath and reached for two wine glasses, filling them with Merlot. She raised the bottle to her lips, taking a large swallow. After another deep breath, she reached for both glasses and headed back into the dining room. 

Coming alongside where Sharon sat, Brenda set down one of the glasses, allowing herself a moment of indulgence in Sharon’s personal space. She could feel the warmth of her and she let out a sigh, sneaking a quick glance down her shirt. 

Sharon looked up at her then, her green eyes dark and intense, catching the blonde’s wayward gaze. Brenda twisted her lips, wanting nothing more than to bend and kiss her. Instead, she drew her glass to her lips and took a sip of her wine, savoring the alcohol the same way she’d savor Sharon’s musky wetness. Brenda found her own thoughts mirrored in Sharon’s gaze and she swallowed, feeling her throat go dry. 

She had promised herself that she would not conduct her affair here, in this house that she shared with her husband. She had broken her vows to him, but she had told herself that if she could not keep her thoughts from straying ceaselessly to the captain, she could at least not act on those thoughts under his roof. 

Brenda knew, even as she reclaimed her chair, that she was not going to be able to keep that promise. It was only a matter of when. 

Scanning her eyes over the open file in front of her, Brenda rested her hand on the table, her finger tapping quietly. She forced her eyes to focus on the words in front of her, willing them to form meaningful sentences and not just remain jumbled nonsense on the page. She wondered if they’d have been better off as adversaries at work, rather than gradually working toward a shared goal. They worked well together, that was for certain, but working lunches and dinners where they were unable to kiss or touch would be the death of her. 

And then, Brenda knew it was over. Sharon’s hand covered Brenda’s, her palm clammy and warm. It was clear that Sharon had not meant to still Brenda’s restless fingers; she had only meant to touch her, something that had become as natural to them as breathing. Their eyes both widened at the contact. It was the first touch they’d allowed themselves all evening, and a shiver skittered down Brenda’s spine. 

Sharon pulled her hand back, but before it could disappear beneath the table to be curled in her lap, Brenda grabbed it, encircling her wrist with steady fingers. 

“Brenda, we can’t do this,” Sharon warned feebly, her breath shallow. 

“I know,” Brenda replied as she got to her feet. She towered over Sharon where she sat and when she bent over to claim the kiss she had been craving for hours, her knees nearly gave way. 

Sharon’s tongue immediately darted out to stroke against Brenda’s lips and Brenda pulled Sharon to her feet, whimpering as the taller woman pinned her body back against the table. Winding her arms around Sharon’s neck, Brenda scooted back atop the table, widening her legs to pull Sharon closer to her, hooking her ankles behind Sharon’s bare knees. The captain’s hands roved across her back, scratching and smoothing and clutching at her while they kissed as if they would never kiss again. 

Warning bells sounded in Brenda’s mind, urging her to stop this madness. Fritz could come home at any time -- he had said he’d be late, but what if he had finished early? What would she do if he walked through the door and saw her wrapped around a woman she claimed to merely tolerate? 

But then Sharon’s hands were skimming the sides of her breasts and Brenda ceased thinking altogether. They could be quick. They could take this risk and be finished and satisfied in no time at all. There was no way they could stop now -- not without losing what was left of their minds. 

Brenda hadn’t realized that she hiked up her own skirt until she felt the cool air of the room whisper against her thighs, followed by the ghost of a caress of Sharon’s fingers. Brenda sucked in a breath, squirming toward the touch, as she clutched fistfuls of thick, soft, full brown hair. There was something completely titillating about the fact that Sharon, a woman so bound by the rules, was actually an equally willing participant in this madness. And the fact that Sharon was wasting no time before slipping her hand into Brenda’s sodden underwear? Brenda could have sobbed with gratitude. 

It should have been embarrassing how wet she had been all night for Sharon, how wet she always was whenever she thought about or looked at or kissed or breathed in the other woman. “Oh…” she sighed, nipping Sharon’s lip sharply. It should have been embarrassing but it wasn’t, not when it made it so damn easy for Sharon’s fingers to gather that moisture and spread it lovingly against her clit, stroking and scratching until Brenda felt her thighs twitch. 

The blonde clutched the edge of the table while she tugged at Sharon’s hair, arching her back so that her breasts would strain against Sharon’s. The captain’s dexterous fingers worked in tight circles, rubbing her in the way she always did when time was of the essence. Brenda wished they could take their time but this, she knew, was more than she even deserved. She moaned, the sound foreign in her home, and when she tipped her head back and Sharon’s tongue licked at her throbbing pulse, Brenda knew she was done for. Sharon scraped her teeth at Brenda’s throat, her slick fingers working a little faster. 

Brenda’s orgasm took her by surprise, ripping through her like an electric current. She trembled and quaked, grateful for the support of the table behind her. Sharon’s fingers did not let up until the blonde’s cries began to subside and she sucked in a deep breath. “Oh,” she said with a sigh, “I needed that in the worst way.” 

Sharon merely hummed, wiping her wet fingers against the fabric of Brenda’s underwear before removing her hand. She kissed the deputy chief again, slowly and deliberately, their tongues stroking languidly. They didn’t always have time for sex, but they always made time for toe-curling, intensely erotic kisses that left them breathless and glassy-eyed. Brenda had always enjoyed kissing, but Sharon made her love it. There was something about kissing Sharon that far surpassed any kissing she had done with other lovers in her life; Brenda craved it like she craved chocolate. 

“It’s my turn,” Brenda mumbled, ghosting her kisses along Sharon’s cheek until she reached her earlobe, which she tugged between her teeth. She skimmed her hands down over Sharon’s shapely backside, gripping fistfuls of her gray wool skirt. She pulled it up, slowly, torturously, exposing Sharon’s ass. The older woman groaned when Brenda’s knuckles grazed her flesh, and Brenda impatiently slipped a hand between their bodies, pulling aside her damp panties to tease her fingers between her folds. Sharon hummed again, this time her voice lower and huskier, and the sound was so sexy that Brenda ached to hear it again. She had imagined what it would be like to hear that glorious sound in her house, echoing off the walls and ringing in her ears. The reality of it was almost more than Brenda could handle. 

Her middle finger dipped inside her and as she drew back, she caressed the sensitive ring of flesh. The older woman trembled. Brenda needed more. Sharon needed more. This angle just wouldn’t cut it. 

The deputy chief knew they didn’t have the luxury of getting fancy or creative. She wanted nothing more than to spread her lover out across the dining room table, naked and wet and wanting. She wanted to use her fingers _and_ her mouth. She wanted to drown in her arousal, wanted to saturate herself with that wetness and carry her taste on her tongue long after the woman had gone. But she couldn’t take that risk. Instead, Brenda pulled her hand away and gripped Sharon’s hips, scooting off the table and spinning their bodies so that Brenda’s front was pressed against Sharon’s back and the older woman’s hands were braced against the tabletop. When Sharon’s hips dug into the edge of the table, she groaned. 

Brenda’s mouth went dry when she caught sight of Sharon’s lacy red underwear encasing her backside. An instinctive desire to spank Sharon welled up within her; they had done that only once and she ached to do it again, but that fantasy would have to wait. They were running out of time, and so Brenda once again pulled aside the scrap of fabric covering the brunette’s sex and stroked her in earnest, coating her fingers in all of that delicious wetness before sliding two fingers deep inside. 

Sharon bit back a loud wail, bending further at the waist until she was braced against her elbows and forearms. She rested her head against the open file that lay forgotten on the table. Brenda began to fuck her, pistoning her wrist slowly, twisting her fingers to stroke against each sweet spot inside this most intimate of places. She gripped Sharon’s hip with her free hand, digging her fingertips into that pale skin. She watched through hooded eyes as her fingers disappeared inside of her, only to withdraw, glistening in copious arousal. Sharon rocked back to meet each thrust, the faint slap of flesh echoing loudly in Brenda’s ears. 

“Harder...oh, god...please...harder,” Sharon begged with a groan. 

Brenda could do nothing but give the woman what she wanted. She added a third finger and fucked her harder, using the hand on her hip to give her better leverage. The result was a loud wail and the sloshing of wine against the table; the burgundy liquid stained the corner of the file that had knocked into it. Sharon seemed not to notice. Brenda didn’t care. All she cared about was the locking of Sharon’s walls around her fingers while she came, her body convulsing in wave upon wave of pleasure. 

The blonde took in the scene before her: her fingers still buried knuckle-deep inside the captain, who was bent over her dining room table in the home she shared with her husband. Her diamond ring sparkled on her hand as it loosened its grip on Sharon’s hip. Carefully, Brenda withdrew her fingers, curling her hand into a fist to keep the wetness contained. She bent over the other woman and covered her body, placing a kiss against her spine while Sharon fought to catch her breath. 

“Brenda, we should…” 

“I know,” she said with a whisper, kissing her back once more. “I know.” She stood, heading into the kitchen to allow Sharon a moment to recompose herself. She ran her fingers under hot water, the scalding temperature turning her skin pink. It burned, but it wasn’t enough to wash away the fact that she had broken yet another promise she had silently made to the man she had married. 

And then, as the guilt churned in her gut, Sharon was beside her, pouring dish soap into her palm and washing her fingers. She washed Brenda’s too, and the blonde rested her forehead against Sharon’s shoulder and they held hands beneath the water. 

“We have to be more careful,” Sharon warned. 

“I know.” She lifted her head with a smile. “I can’t seem to help myself around you.” 

“I know _exactly_ what you mean.” Sharon leaned in for a kiss, their lips barely brushing before they each heard a sound that made their hearts momentarily stop beating. 

The front door slammed shut. 

“Shit,” Brenda hissed. She turned off the faucet and dried her hands, tossing the towel in Sharon’s direction before she grabbed a second hand towel, remembering the spilled wine on the table. She dabbed at the spill, scanning the room quickly for any other sign that they had done something other than paperwork. There was nothing, and Brenda breathed a little easier. She was a horrible person and even so, her body felt exquisitely sated. 

Sharon sat back down at the table, casting a cautious glance at Brenda. 

“Home a little early!” Fritz called out, busying himself with something or other in the living room. Brenda used the opportunity to sit back down, darting one final glance at Sharon. The woman looked pristine as ever, not at all like she had just been fucked from behind. Brenda shivered. 

“What a nice surprise,” Brenda said brightly, smiling as he walked into the dining room. He nodded at the captain as he bent to kiss Brenda’s proffered cheek, and Sharon greeted him politely. When he stood, Brenda released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

“Is there any takeout left? I’m starving!” 

“In the fridge,” Brenda replied, relieved when he walked out of the room. 

This, she realized, was infinitely worse than the temptation of being unchaperoned. She wanted him to leave, wanted to be alone just a little longer with Sharon Raydor. Being under the same roof with the man she had married and the woman she had fallen for was torture. 

“Hey, Bren? Is there any more Happy Family?” 

Brenda’s eyes met Sharon’s. “No,” she called back. She licked her lips, confident that she could still smell the other woman on her fingers. “The two of us finished it off.” 

\---


End file.
